Sometimes Angels
wing their way into my mind,
reminding me
of my need to stay in the presence
of divine reality.
When times of physical frailty weigh my body
and vulnerability opens my sensibilities
to all manner of input,
thank Heaven the Angels come too.
They may come in the tender touch
of a gentle-eyed nurse
in the hospital where I am undergoing procedures,
or in the trustful lingering of a heron
as I gaze through my camera.
And in the Shearwater annex –
where I work among kind companions –
They can weave their way through the women’s laughter,
or waft their way onto a pitcher I have chosen to decorate.
This angel appears to be of the mothering sort…
for two plump cupids frolic
in response to her dance.
One hovers close to her mother’s watchful gaze…
reaching frequently for reassurance,
while the other is set free by love…
cavorting fearlessly beyond maternal influence.
As I hold
the pleasing weight of the pitcher
in my hands,
and accept the manifestation of angels
in my life,
I also accept my human vulnerability…
and my courage.
I know that the mothering angel is always near,
and I am free to go.
A Dance of Balance 